


HIRAETH

by Reydart



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Assassins & Hitmen, Crimes & Criminals, Death, Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Family, Family Secrets, Fights, Gen, Hatred, Hurt, Jealousy, Loss, Love, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Panic, Pirates, Plot, Princes & Princesses, Protectiveness, Romance, Royalty, Sad, Secrets, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Teenagers, Torture, Trauma, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Violence, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29331888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reydart/pseuds/Reydart
Summary: Bones kills for reason.Leda fights for survival.A new world discovered in a panic could be her only lifeline, but that line is running short.She needs to return, but first, she needs them dead...





	1. Bones

He knew he’d have to kill another. He knew from the look on that poor servant's face when they told him he needed to see the queen, that it was a matter of urgency.  
It came as no surprise to him that she wants another man dead, his assumption being it’s just one more of her short lived affairs that she fears will forget to hold his tongue. Death isn’t a necessity, he knows that, but he isn’t paid for necessities, he’s paid for insurance.  
“Don’t claim him as your victim. I don’t want any questions asked.” The queen lets out in a hurried panic the second his dark leather boots meet the marble floor of the throne room.  
Her tone took him back slightly. He’s used to a cold face, turned shoulder, barely even a crease in her brow and yet there she stands, almost breathless, letting the panic take over.  
“Questions about what exactly? What could that scared little man ever have against you to have you pacing around the room like a lost puppy?” In return for his sarcastic tone, she sends him a look of pure desperation, trying to tell him now isn’t the time for his humour to show.  
He ignores her pleading eyes, just as he always does.  
In times like this, he wonders how many people have seen her in this state, so desperate for help, yet so useless without him. None. The royals never need help, or so the kingdom believes, and still, he stands in front of the defenceless, ageing queen with a small smirk playing on his lips, knowing she needs him as much as she needs the air filling her lungs.  
“The last inter-dimensional crossing was 18 years ago.” She stills, unsure of how he will react.  
He doesn’t move, even when questioning her meaning of the sudden words she spoke.  
“My mother?” His voice lacks all humour it had carried moments before, it now being cold and distant.  
“Yes, your mother” The queen confirms as she looks up to meet his eyes, expecting there to be some kind of pain, a boy who needs comfort. Though, there is no surprise showing through her features when she looks up to see the expressionless face she had grown so used to.  
“She left something there for me, though she never could hold her tongue. The knowledge of what stirs in the modern needs to die with him. No claims. No questions.”  
“No questions.” He repeats in a mocking tone while a small smirk plays on his lips once again, despite the humour not quite reaching his eyes.  
It isn’t much but it doesn’t need to be, the subtle hints of a plan on display for the woman and her snide comments about his mother leaves her wide eyed with fear. Not another word is spoken between the two as he turns his back on the queen, not bothering to bow as one should. His footfall is inaudible while he strides out of the half empty throne room past frightened guards who bow before him as though he were the king, whom he hates just as much as the memory of his father.  
His left foot leading, he turns the corner, entering the darkened hallway which stands hidden from the light of day and the sight of the innocent. Here, even he could be heard, his breathing fills the empty sounds of the hall, hitting the walls and slamming into him one after another.  
The screaming stairway. That’s what the servants call it, a place where the halls stay silent until the heavy oak door opens and the screams of the guilty are unleashed into the echoing hallways ready to make blood pour from any ear they can find.  
The cold reaches around his body as he approaches the door and wraps his scarred hand around the delicately melded door handle before letting it go, his anger building. He can hear her running to catch up with him and turns to see an overly excited princess approaching him with a smile, which he doesn’t plan on returning, not until he visits her chambers after the long hours of day.  
“What are you doing down here?” Her soft voice lifting gently off of the white walls. Despite her calm voice, she looks up at him just as her mother looked at him minutes before, with fear, in need of protection. His protection. She is always uncomfortable in this part of the castle, that discomfort grows as she nears the screaming stairway, which she now stands directly in front of, seeking the attention of a monster who she can’t help but to admire.  
“Work.” His voice sounding cold and irritated while he stares deeply into her eyes looking for an explanation as to why she followed him here.  
She knows not to ask him questions but she also knows about his work, and the rumours which are shared for her mothers reasoning to give him that work.  
“My mother?” She asks, looking at him with disappointment clear on her face while she takes hold of one arm with her other. She receives a nod in response to her question, he knows what she hears, he knows what she’s thinking, but he also knows not to correct her.  
“So much for the loving family we show the kingdom” Her voice no longer comes out smooth, but unsteady with a slight crack which in any other part of the castle would go unnoticed, but the unforgiving echoes of the plain, undecorated walls pushes her weakness straight to stone-faced man in front of her.  
He lets a small chuckle fall from his curving lip as he speaks; ”She really is a whore.”  
Without warning, he reaches his hand to the handle once more, this time opening the heavy door wide, letting the agony filled screams overbear the princesses sobs as he slips into the unlit stairway, allowing the heavy door to slam behind him, announcing his return to the forsaken who lie below.  
For a brief moment he stands still at the top of the stairs, looking down at the blood covered portions of the floor, letting the screams welcome him home.  
With the familiar sound of a cracking whip, he begins his descent to the cold chambers below, stepping on the ruby crystals of blood and ice as he reaches the corner and takes the sharp turn back on himself. The darkness which surrounds him soon leaves his side, being replaced by the lanterns which hang too low for his tall frame, forcing him to bow his head in order to make a painless journey past the chambers of the forsaken, into the hidden walkway behind the private execution’s stand. No guard follows him past the chambers, no one dares to, not after they spent long hours collecting the pieces of their friends skull from the puddle of blood he created. Him and his talents.  
No time is wasted, he doesn’t hesitate, not even when he sees the familiar face he had previously carved out from his memories swollen and bruised as the man’s limp body lies against the rigid, stone wall ready to be taken from the back of the castle, into the woods.  
“No questions” he repeats to himself in an attempt to convince himself to follow the orders he has no true intention to follow.  
A man of secrets- the queens secrets, is a very valuable man, especially when it comes to the court’s sailing enemy. The wobbly legged man should be on land by now, entering the forest in a short time, he would have to hurry if he wanted the answers for himself.  
The passage through the back of the castle ends in the stable of his glossy coated gelding which, on queen's orders, had already been tacked up with finest black leather and pre-polished silver stirrups matching the metal bit resting behind the dark horses teeth.  
A man of such weight makes it difficult for him to lift them onto the back of his horse, their limp weight causing the gelding to stir in the stall at the uncomfortable placement of weight. Despite the unpredictable movements, he smoothly lifts his leg over the man and the back of the saddle before gently placing his weight down, using the left stirrup for support. With a squeeze to the sides, the horse walks towards the stable door which a frightened guard holds open, allowing a smooth exit despite the body moving awkwardly and out of rhythm with his horse.  
With a brief glance at his fathers cheap watch, he pushes the walk to a canter, following the trail into the forest of shadows, stopping just before reaching the meeting point, should he take too long finding answers, the pirate can struggle his way through the solid woods to find him.  
Away from the castle, hidden by the trees, carelessness is accepted and adored by many when the result is a shorter time and an easier pay. He has no use for this man other than the words he will speak, meaning no worries flood his mind as he pushes the man off of the side of his horse onto the hard ground, bones snapping as a result.  
The man lay on his back with their face tilted to the side slightly as their blonde hair rests over their eyes.  
He kneels down beside the broken man who lay before him and gently brushes his fingertips across the man’s closed eyelids, causing them to fly open meeting his eyes staring back at him from above.  
The fear evident on the man’s beaten face is more than enough to bring that smirk back onto his full lips as he begins speaking to his poor old advisor.  
“Now, advise me” He lets out in a small laugh, amusing the irony of the situation he has been faced with.  
“Are you going to crush my skull?” The advisor speaks in a taunting manner, clearly knowing the discretion needed for his death. He sits on the ground, beaten and bloody mocking the monster before him without knowing just how monstrous he has become since their days in each other's presence.  
“Me? No.” His voice comes out calmly, pausing briefly to lean closer to the overly proud man in front of him, looking for a better view of the reaction he longs for. “What the pirates do to you... that is none of my concern.” He smiles as the advisor's face drops, filling with pure horror at the thought of possibilities much worse than a crushed skull.  
“The queen would never let you do that, I know too much” the scared man says, gripping onto the last bit of hope he can find while he brushes his light hair from his face.  
“That you do. Now, advise me” He repeats, growing impatient by the man’s constant defence.  
“Kill me. Show me mercy, not the bottom of them sailors’ boats” The man begins pleading, agitating the man who leans over him.  
“Mercy is earned. Earn it” He spits at the whining man on the ground, knowing he has no time, but not daring to look at his watch. Time is a weapon, one he can not afford to have used against him.  
“What answers do you look for?” The man hurries out in false hope, looking at him as if he were still the boy he used to teach.  
“What did my mother hide in the modern before her death?” His voice coming out clearly but still keeping quiet, acknowledging the fact the sailor would be approaching soon.  
“A girl. The queen’s” The advisor answers honestly, searching for the mercy he longs for, trying to find it, to grip onto it.  
“A hidden princess?” He questions as he stands, laughing at the ridiculousness of the advisor’s answer.  
“A hidden bastard.” The injured man announces in confidence, allowing a pause of conflict in his mind before finalising his answer; “A hidden witch.”


	2. Leda

The migraines kept getting worse. Every day leading up to now, she spent her time sitting in her dark room hoping it would stop at least for a day, this day. There is nothing special about her birthday, there never was, but she’d at least hoped for the pain to dim.  
But still, the migraine persisted to call for the dark, especially when the door swung open and revealed an agitated middle aged woman who seemed to be battling with herself in an attempt to let the words out.  
“Happy birthday.” the words sounded foreign on her tongue, her face showing they tasted just as bitter as they felt once they met Leda.  
She didn’t wait for a response, instead she hurried off down the hall to happily greet her real children. Even if she did wait, Leda didn’t have a response to give, her eyes were already closed, trying to hide from the bright hallway which no longer sat peacefully behind a closed door.  
Nobody cared for today, they cared for the show on display to the world outside the window. They cared for the story of the young girl’s appearance, a baby on a mountain? No one could process such a thing, and yet; they see her smiles, they hear her words and they feel her embrace, even if they are all a part of the show. It’s an easy story to get themselves wrapped into, the rumours, the theories, the empty leads.  
Leda’s clock sat beside her on her bedside table clearly showing that there was less than an hour for her to get ready. As much as she appreciated the extra sleep, it left her unprepared for the sudden early guests loudly barging through the front door. Within the next few seconds Leda’s mother returned to her door, urging her to hurry in her ever condescending tone.  
It wasn’t long before she slipped into the living room, turning to face away from the window with a wide smile and open arms, ready to greet those she knew as family. There weren't many people in the house. A few familiar faces, a few she had no memory of, seeing as she could only ever remember patches of these days.  
At some point during the day, more people arrived, more greetings served and more smiles shared, the presents were planned to be opened while the cake was eaten, allowing Leda to be the entertainment for their insatiable guests. The cake was set up on the kitchen Table, surrounded by family, all looking for a piece with the most chocolate topping, Leda was sat on the soft beige carpet in the living room at the centre of the room, allowing everyone who brought presents to see her reactions.  
It was clear that by the contents of the bags and boxes, her mother had given out suggestions on what to buy her, not based on her interests, but rather what her siblings would have liked to borrow once the day was over.  
There was always bound to be one gift Leda would want to keep. It was handed to Leda by a woman she did not recognise, she fit in with the rest of the family but the smile that spread across her face wasn’t unnatural and forced, like the others. Her dark blue eyes met Leda’s, closing slightly as the smile widened while her near-black hair fell forward at the motion of a small nod. The gift itself was something suited beautifully to Leda, the leather-bound book sat peacefully in her hands while her fingers grazed gently down the spine of the book and paused on a small marking burnt into the leather. Leda looked up from the half moon symbol to see the woman once more, but she had already taken interest somewhere else, out of Leda’s sight.  
The throbbing pain in her head had subsided by the time her family decided to leave her in peace to enjoy her day, it still hurt but the sudden quietness of the house seemed to help dull the ache.  
The sun had begun to set and her friends would be at the door in five minutes, ready to “free her from that hellhole” as Sophie would put it. She rushed to change clothes from that of which she faced her family in and in a desperate race with the seconds ticking by, she attempted to hide the dark shadows that sit under her grey eyes, taking away from the hints of blue that sit close to her pupils.  
Her blonde hair was no issue, the waves would frizz the more she tried to style it so she left it to sit against the fabric covering her back. The real problem rested on her eyes, sitting in a smudged mess ruining the work she put in to cover the already existing darkness. The doorbell rang at the very moment Leda stood frantically rubbing the eyeliner from under her eyes, with the majority gone, she ran to the door and left the house with no real hesitation.  
The party started at ten, making them twenty minutes late. The positives of not telling anyone her birthday, was that she could arrive at a party and no one’s attention would be directed towards her. The party having already started made it easy for Leda and her friends to slip into the house full of overly tipsy strangers who can’t seem to hold their liquor.  
A hand, slightly larger than Leda's, wrapped around her wrist, pulling her towards the kitchen, Leda turned to see Sophie dragging her to find the rest of their friends and presumably, what their friends had brought with them. With her migraine, Leda knew she wouldn’t enjoy the party as much as she normally would, even if the pain subsided, the music was bound to bring it back in full swing.  
Any other day, the night would end for Leda when her friends had to carry her from whatever location the party was thrown at, but seeing as it was her birthday, Leda’s goal was to actually remember how she spent the night.  
One shot was poured and handed to Leda while her friends stared at her in anticipation. After returning a confused glance to each one of them Sophie yelled; “For the birthday girl!”  
Despite answering her unvoiced question, the whole kitchen now stood staring at the friends looking for something to show who’s birthday it is.  
Leda took the shot after a second too long of no conversations passed through the kitchen, causing a few people to cheer and others to wish her a happy birthday before the kitchen was swarmed by a new set of faces, all searching for a new taste to drink.  
Her empty hand was filled by a freshly poured drink as Sophie's hand once again wrapped around Leda’s arm, pulling her into the heart of the party.  
The room she now stood in the centre of, being pushed from all sides, looked to have white walls, surrounding the large area which must have been cleared out to make more room for the party. The dark lights contrasted those in the kitchen, giving Leda’s eyes a short relief as the pain in her head once again subsided, giving her the opportunity to drink the sweet taste whatever her friends had made her.  
The longer Leda spent in the dark room, the easier it was for her to see her vision blurring and the harder it was to find her friends among the large crowd of dancing bodies. She was no longer dancing with the people surrounding her, as she felt the weight of her arms drag her down too much to move with any sort of elegance, the walk through the crowd was eventful. The overly intoxicated girl made her way towards the back of the room where she spotted the raven haired girl sitting with a group she hadn’t met before.  
“Sophie!” Leda’s overly enthusiastic voice cut through the air just as the song changes, giving her friend the perfect opportunity to look over and watch as a drink found its way down Leda’s dress.  
“What the fuck?” Her voice came out loud despite the scratch in her throat as it did.  
Anger now radiating off of her, she tried to look up and find the person with an empty cup, but no one stood waiting for confrontation. The party had simply moved on, unfazed by Leda’s state. Sophie seemed to be invested in an overly dramatic conversation while Leda stumbled into the side of her, earning a look of exhaustion and confusion in return.  
“How much have you had?” Sophie’s loud words felt like they were hitting Leda in the face, causing her to step back away from her friend and approach again once the words stopped coming.  
“Just that drink from the kitchen.” Leda’s words came out in a slight slur as the heaviness in her body became overbearing. She locked her knees straight in an attempt to keep herself standing but her right knee buckled from beneath her. Despite her sudden drop, she didn’t hit the ground, instead she was placed upright with a muscular arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her steady. She looked up, trying to meet the eyes of her friend, only to be met by the side of her head, the image of her dark hair being flicked over her shoulder in an attempt to impress being the last thing she saw clearly before being pulled outside.  
Leda was once again carrying her own weight as the cold air wrapped her body in its torturous blanket and the person’s arm guided her to sit on the steps, looking over the water of a pool. The distant ripples in the pool beautifully reflecting the moonlight onto Leda’s face while her vision was filled with sudden flashes of light while the distant pain of her migraine raced towards her at full speed.  
Her hands instantly flew up to her head as a hiss fell from her full lips, but her reaction was quickly shut down as two hands wrapped around her wrists and forcefully put her hands back down to her sides. One hand was slowly let go from her arms and gently rested over her eyes while a deep voice whispered; “welcome home princess.”  
By the time their sentence was finished, their voice had completely faded out, along with every ounce of pain, almost as if she had simply left them both behind. She took the chance to look at them once she could no longer feel their hand covering their sight but they were no longer next to her. Neither was the pool.  
She was inside once again but the music had stopped, or at least she couldn't hear it from this part of the house where the white paint no longer coated the walls. The room Leda stood in didn’t match the modern décor of the rest of the house, the floor was a darker stain of wood, the walls the exact same. The room was bright, opposing where her friends had taken her, but her blurry eyes made it hard to see exactly where the light came from, only when she tripped and placed her hands on a ledge did she realise the light was coming through an open window. She was still on the first floor but the sun had already come up meaning she must have fallen asleep. It wasn’t uncommon for her to wake up still living in the effects of her drink but for her friends to leave her there left her on edge.  
Leda didn’t move from her position at the window, instead she lent forward slightly, allowing the sun to coat her still cold skin. Her hands rest at each side of her body against the dark oak window sill, keeping her upright, fighting against the tilt of her drink.  
The security of her new found balance faltered as she found herself falling back on herself, eyes closed. The confusion struck when she never felt the impact of the hardwood floor, but instead a coldness placed against her neck, earning a gasp from the girl as panic began to set in.


End file.
